Shirley Bennington

August, 1993

The only reason I decided to go to college is because I ended up with a college fund I didn’t know about until right before I graduated high school. Hey, if I’m going to get a free ride, I might as well take advantage of it and learn something. I’m quite tempted to major in writing, but I’m not that great when I have to write under pressure. Half of college is repeating high school, which is kind of a drag, but I’ll try to make the best of it.

It was a little chilly the morning Melvin, Louisa, and I piled into the moving van to make the 80 mile trek south to transplant me to State South University. Melvin wasn’t much for chatter while he was driving, so Louisa, who was sitting in the middle, shuffled through radio stations. I was a bit sleepy, as I usually have insomnia the day before I do something big.

I chose State South over the big-name private schools I got into because I’m not quite sure about this whole college thing to begin with. I’ve wanted to be a grown-up woman with my own apartment and a job since I was in kindergarten. College is supposed to be a path to that, but my teenage rebellion dictates that I’m averse to the whole college degree & corporate job path that has been dictated to me since I was in that surreal private preschool when I was 4.

Mother and Father used to tell me that it was my destiny to run the family company, Bennington Distribution in Mermirabuena, California. Father’s name is Erwin Bennington, and he’d been groomed by his uncle Schroder to take over the company when my namesake retired. Mother’s name is Nadine, and she’s been a vital part of the company’s social functions since my Dad became a part of upper management.

Nadine wanted the title of Mother, but wasn’t too keen on the work involved in that title. I remember reading Mommy Dearest when I was a teenager, and the one part I really identified with was when Christina wrote about having to wear pretty dresses and curtsey and smile on command.

I should note that I’m not actually genetically a Bennington. I’m the product of the affair that the VP of Human Resources had with my namesake’s secretary during the summer of 1974 while his wife and kids were away. It was Uncle Schroder’s idea for my parents to offer to adopt me and name me after his youngest sister who had recently become head of the company. (Isn’t it kind of ironic that the “company bastard” was named after a woman who never married nor had kids?)

I found out I was adopted when I was 7, a year after my Nanny had been replaced by a 16-year-old girl who turned out to be my half sister. She’d always wanted a little sister, so she was gung ho about being able to take care of me. I found her a bit too twee and bossy, but I tolerated it because she was paying more attention to me than Mother was. She lasted until I was 11. She showed up quite upset one morning shortly after she’d turned 21 and decided to help herself to our bar. Mother came home to find her drunk and had a fit. As a response to being fired, she told me that the only reason I wasn’t vacuumed out of my birthmom’s uterus was because Uncle Schroder offered her an adoption fee of half a million dollars. (After I was born, she took the money and disappeared. I’ve seen pictures of her in the corporate archives, and I definitely get my figure from her.)

I had several different babysitters after that instead of a nanny—mostly the female teenage relatives of people in the company. Luckily, Auntie Shirley offered to start having me over a few weekends a month right after my half sister was fired. My folks were all too happy to have my babysitter du jour pick me up from school on Friday and drop me off at Auntie Shirley’s. Another babysitter would pick me up on Monday and take me directly to school.

Those weekends were bliss, and in retrospect the only time I really felt like a Bennington. Auntie Shirley was an excellent cook, and looked forward to introducing me to all her favorite foods. I was only allowed to watch TV after 6pm, but I could stay up as late as I wanted to on Friday and Saturday nights. I saw a lot of movies, thanks to her. She welcomed my friends warmly, and hosted many parties and dinners during my junior high and high school years.

Auntie Shirley didn’t enter the company until her 60’s, and loved to tell me stories of all the places she’d been to and all the jobs she’d had. As I grew older, she started sharing stories of her dating life, which was quite active for several decades. She never wanted just one partner—she preferred to have an open network of lovers. She primarily dated men, though at the end of her life, she did admit that she’d fallen in love with a few women in her lifetime.

My parents were set on me being a Bennington who would be a cradle to grave family corporate being. When I was 13, I was given a job in the mailroom, along with the Controller’s daughter, Claudia. We became very close friends rather quickly. She was a few years older than me, and we got into trouble once we started going to high school together. Our parents were all too happy to make donations to the school in order to keep our permanent records clean.

Claudia went off to college at the beginning of my Sophomore year. I ended up moving in with Auntie Shirley during the second semester when my Mom and I fought over me not wanting to have a debutante party. My Dad fired me shortly after that because I walked out on his best client after that creepy old man tried to get 15-year-old me to meet him at his hotel room.
Life with Auntie Shirley was great. We got along very well, and she helped me become emancipated. I started dating Elodio Ferguson, one of Claudia’s cousins. He was very nice, and even got along with my childhood buddies, Joe and Fred.

Then Auntie Shirley died my Senior year, right after she turned 86. Her house was left to Uncle Schroder, who promptly turned it over to his oldest grandson, who kicked me out so he could move in, sell his house, and live off the money.

Elodio, who was starting to become a bit of a control freak, became even more so when I moved into a tiny studio apartment down the street from our school. (My parents moved into a 1 bedroom condo after they kicked me out, so they could claim they had no room for me if I ever wanted to come back.) He proposed to me in front of my homeroom right before graduation. I knew marrying him would be a mistake, so I turned him down.

“Shirley, do you want to stop for some food?”

Louisa’s voice saved me from remembering the unplesantry that resulted from the breakup.

“Yes, that would be great.” I said, knowing I sounded pensive.

“You ok?”

I sighed. “Yeah, just going over my recent past in my head again.”

“You’ll get through this, Dollface. Every single mile we put on this moving van is one mile farther away from that creep.”

“Oh, I know. You two really helped me out a lot this summer, and I really appreciate it. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”

“All to happy to help you, Shirley. Besides, I’ve scored some great kitchen items I’ve been lusting after for quite some time. I know the furniture will be put to great use, too.”

“Yeah, it will. And I’ve got the perfect place to go for breakfast, too!” Melvin said.

Breakfast was at Jerry’s Famous Deli, which had a bowling alley attached. It had the hugest menu I’ve ever seen. It was big and had tiny print. I ordered fried potatoes with pepperoni, just because I’d never seen it on a menu.

Melvin insisted on buying us lunch and ordered a large container of some special pasta salad, some rolls, and a small container of italian dressing for our lunch. We were just able to squeeze the salad and dressing into the drink cooler Louisa brought.

An hour and a half after hopping on the 101 South right near Universal Studios, Melvin pulled into the dorm parking lot and found a space big enough to fit the moving van. “Well, we’re here.”

“Yeah, so we are.” I said, smiling as I looked at the apartment complex that would be my new home. There were two brick buildings on the right, and three narrower and taller buildings to the left.

I reached down by my feet and pulled out the small cooler that contained our lunch before shutting the door..

“Ooh, this is prettier than it was when I visited here last!” Louisa exclaimed, recalling the rainy Saturday afternoon we’d spent here several months ago. She wandered the Arboretum with an umbrella while I took my placement tests. We exited the van and walked towards a large banner that said “Check-In.” I walked right up to a middle-aged woman with light brown hair.

“Welcome to the State South Student Housing Complex! May I have your name?”

“Bennington, Shirley.”

The woman consulted her list for a moment. “Ah, here you are. A3. Azusa is the first brick building to your right.” The woman handed me a plastic folder that had my name on it. “Here’s your housing packet. Your keys are on a lanyard. The plastic one is for the building, and the metal one is for your room. The doors automatically lock, so make sure you have your keys on you if you leave your room or the building.”

“Thanks.”

“There are some bins over there you can use to help bring your stuff in faster. Sorry about the trek to and from the parking lot, but we can’t let anyone park in the fire exits.”

“Oh, that’s fine. Thanks.” I turned around and looked at Louisa and Melvin. “Do you want to have lunch and take a look at the room before we start moving stuff in?”

“Sounds good!” Louisa and Melvin said together.

We walked a short way down the brick pathway to a long and narrow two story brick building. I fished the lanyard out of my packet and swiped the plastic card through the card reader attached to the door.

I opened the door and immediately encountered a pile of laundry.

“Oh, thanks!” Said a male voice from the other side of the laundry.

“You’re welcome!” I said, stepping aside to hold the door open for him. The pile of laundry walked through the door and was set down by a young man in a dark green polo shirt and grey slacks. He had very short, dark brown hair and it was hard to tell if his eyes were light brown or dark green.

“Hi! I’m Andy.”

“Hi, Andy. I’m Shirley.” I smiled at him. Very light brown eyes.

“Are you moving in?” He asked, smiling back at me. He had Claudia’s eyes.

“Well, I need to get my stuff out of the van, but I thought I’d check out my apartment first.”

“Oh, I can help you move in, once I’ve popped these in the washing machine. I moved in this morning.” Well, his eyes were the same color as Claudia’s, but they had more warmth.

“That’s quite kind of you.” I smiled. A very soft cough reminded me I wasn’t alone. “Oh, this is Louisa and Melvin. They’re friends of mine who are helping me move.”

“Nice to meet you.” Andy said.

“Likewise. So, you live in this building, too?” Melvin asked. For a man who was adamant he did not want to procreate, he sure knew when to act like a father.

“Yes. I’m in A4.” Andy replied.

“I suppose you two will be seeing a lot of each other, then.” Louisa smiled.

“Yes, well, Andy, I won’t keep you from your laundry. We’re going to eat before we start unloading. I’m in A3.” I said.

“Great! I’ll knock on your door once I’m done.” Andy said, bending down to pick up his basket of laundry.

“Great!” I said, and stood aside as he walked made a left down the path.

“Cute neighbor.” Louisa remarked as we walked into the building. The walls had a tinge of yellow and all the doors were different colors

“Kind of. Nice, definitely.” I said, glancing to my left and noticing that the odd numbers were on the left. “I guess I’m that door over there.” I said, pointing to an orange door a few yards away.

Melvin was looking at the doors as we walked down the hallway with an amused grin on his face. “The doors are colored according to the resistor color code. Very clever.”

Louisa laughed. “Very clever, indeed.”

I stopped at the orange door, which had “A3″ written on it in white letters. I put the metal card into the slot on the side of the doorknob, and heard a click. I pushed open the door, and we all walked in.

The room had beautiful, deep blue carpet and white walls. The furniture almost seemed hotel-like, but not ugly. The kitchen had dark colored cabinets and a small white refrigerator.

“Wow, this is nice!” Melvin remarked. “Much better than half the places I’ve lived in!”

“Well, you wanted to be a starving musician in your 20′s.” I laughed. “I’m lucky I got this place. I was on the wait list for a studio until three weeks ago.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t too fond of going apartment hunting in a strange college town. All I’d know is to keep away from the areas that are full of houses with greek letters.” Louisa said.

I set the cooler down on the counter. “Ready to eat?”

“Starved! Driving makes me hungry!” Melvin said.

“Driving through LA makes me hungry!” Louisa said.

“I take it we’re making pasta salad sandwiches for lunch?” I said, as Louisa handed me the canvas bag full of some basic utensils.

“Yep. Kinda unusual, but these are quite delicious. I discovered them by accident one day when I was kinda low on money but very hungry.”

Melvin was right, the sandwich was delicious. I couldn’t quite place everything in the pasta, but I tasted olives, pimentos, cheddar cheese, and tomatoes.

Andy showed up halfway through lunch, and joined us for dessert, which was a bunch of fresh fruit.

Unloading the moving van took a surprisingly short time. Louisa and Melvin helped me pack quite efficiently. We brought up all the really bulky stuff and a good variety of clothing, and they’d send things up as I needed them. The plastic moving bins were perfect for boxes and all the shelves we had to assemble.

Andy was quite good at putting shelves together. Louisa had fun organizing my kitchen, and I was able to set up my stereo and unpack my clothes. Melvin turned in the moving van, and caught a cab back to my place.

***
On the first day of school, Andy and I walked to class together. Much to our dismay, there was a note on the door stating that the class had been cancelled because the teacher decided not to come back after her maternity leave.

We headed to the registration office, where we looked at the bulletin board to find a class to replace it. As it was the first day of classes, there wasn’t a lot of choice. I decided to add a World History class on Wednesday afternoons. Andy, who didn’t want to take history one day a week, opted for a Psychology class that started at 11:30. We decided to go have doughnuts and hot chocolate at one of the outdoor cafes before his class started.

My intro to American Studies class seems interesting enough. Seems like a weird thing to study American culture at the undergrad level, but I suppose for the women who are only here to get their Mrs, it’s entertaining enough.

After class, I braved the bookstore to pick up the history book I’d need and to return the books from the poetry reading class. The return line was short, and I started to read my history book while waiting in the very long and windy line inside the bookstore. I kept getting distracted by clucks of impatience all around me. Somehow being irked that there’s a line in a college bookstore on the first day of classes seems silly. Then again, Auntie Shirley was pretty adamant that it was a waste of energy to complain about mildly annoying things that were a normal part of life.

I bumped into Andy the next day in front of the long wall of mailboxes right beside the pool. “Hello, Shirley! How’s your day been?”

“Great! I had two morning classes and I’m done for the rest of the day.”

”I’m off until four o’clock.”

“Would you like to come over for lunch?”

Andy’s eyes lit up. “Sure! Let me drop off my mail at my place. See you soon.”

Andy took a little longer than I expected. He knocked just as I was placing the salad on the table.

“Hi. Sorry I took so long. I got a phone call from my Mom. Wow, this looks great!” Andy surveyed the table.

“So how did you learn how to cook like this?”

“My great-aunt taught me a few things. I also learned from Louisa and Melvin.”

“Cool.” Andy said through a forkful of salad.

“Why don’t we start having lunch together on Tuesdays?”

“That would be great!” Andy smiled.